Author's Note: This is my first fic in a long, long while. Please be as kind as you can, although constructive critique is appreciated. It is basically one HUGE LONG (it will be huge and long) headcanon that I have for the series which runs semi parallel to it from the beginning (although this first few bits will be from Spencer's arrival, just observations from his POV before the introduction of Elle to the team). Primarily it will be from Spencer's perspective if it revolves around another character, and if it revolves around spencer himself it will be a mix of his and other's POV's about him. I tend to like/relate to/be most interested in Reid, so obviously he is who I will address the most in this piece but it will be epic and long and at times seemingly OOC and at times very in character. Because it is really how I interpret these characters and what their lives might be like with each other and themselves outside of casework. I will sometimes address canon cases and/or add to canon stories (missing scenes, etc). I have no interest in creating cases of my own, for this particular fic. There may be occasional romantic things, I am honestly not certain. Because this is going to be as much one lengthy headcanon as I can make it, the most likely pairings that you might might see here but honestly will NOT see until much later chapters are Reid/Morgan (intermittent), Garcia/JJ (brief), Prentiss/Morgan (brief), Reid/Hotch (intermittent, but mostly because it adds to particular storylines I want to address). But, these won't show up for a while, and things may end up going differently.

DISCLAIMER TIME: I don't own these characters, CM, or CBS. If I did, this is how it would have gone. But I don't, and I therefore apologize to whoever does own all these things for probably butchering their vision.

****VERY IMPORTANT TRIGGER WARNING**** Not anytime soon, but in assorted later chapters I plan on dealing with the topics of: Drugs, Alcohol, Rape, Eating Disorders (all types), Self Harm, Mental Illness. These will not be addressed in the first few topics at least and each will be eased into at it's own time. I will post individual warnings on chapters for what they may contain. But I wanted a blanket statement that a lot of this will be interesting, nice, fun bits of their relationships at the BAU, but even more of it will be angst, struggle, and fear they face at the BAU. So, just be aware.

Without further ado…

It was Gideon who really took me under his wing my first day at the BAU. I had known him in casual passing for a while; he was the one who had recruited me originally. When I arrived, in my neatest (okay, least soiled) sweater vest, that first morning at the BAU, I can best liken the change in atmosphere between us to the difference in that of Earth and Pluto. Whereas Earth is perfectly conducive to habitability, the small atmosphere of Pluto contains highly toxic levels of carbon monoxide, and is virtually opposite to any place we know. Not… Not that either state of Gideon and my relationship was toxic, simply an explanation for my own metaphor. Often the mistake is made that I spew facts to irritate, or more appropriately as the 'new' 'young' one, impress those within earshot. It's not. I think in facts, recite them to myself as part of my inner monologue, even. One of my many idiosyncrasies.

But, back to Gideon… I showed up, my scraggly hair in a slightly greasy comb-over, glasses I was repeatedly berated about being 'the wrong shape for my face', and khaki slacks (the nicest trousers I owned), and fully expected the customary, polite, nod of 'hello' or 'approval', or whatever Gideon tried to express with that nod and half smile. At times, he had shaken my hand, quickly, but perhaps more gently than one would expect of a man in his position. These occasions were rare, however, and usually only followed a major accomplishment, which I assumed meant of conveyed approval. Today, I expected one of those gestures. I received neither.

Instead, He took me firmly by one hand, and with the other patted my left shoulder once before gripping it at my collarbone. His odd half smile emitted something resembling warmth. If I weren't overstepping in saying so, I might even call it a three-quarter smile. He enunciated four words as though they were the most important he'd ever spoken, "Welcome to the B.A.U," and pointed me towards the only desk in the room not inundated by clutter.

His voice always sounded like a grandfather addressing a small child. When we first crossed paths when I was young myself and obtaining my very first degree, I believed it was his way of speaking to people like me… Intelligent, but naïve; promising, but inexperienced. It's now been 10 minutes since my arrival, and I can provide sufficient evidence to the reassuring fact that it is not people like me he's talking to… It's people like everyone. Apparently, Gideon addresses everyone as though they were personally important to him, at least, with reference to his vocal tone and speech patterns. It's something I will file away him, I find it endearing, if not useful.

"Well aren't you a pretty thing, boy wonder."

What – no, who – the heck was that? I hope not a colleague; if they already think so little of me maybe it's for the best if I just go. No, I worked hard enough to get here… I get it, I'm young, gawky, I haven't cut my hair in months. In fairness, that is mostly an issue of forgetfulness, and not a fashion statement. The thought of having my hair cut simply doesn't occur to me and would be financially irresponsible with the bills I pay for my mom's care. And I'm not cutting it myself… Not after I attempted to cut my own hair when I was twelve years old, not only was I constantly maligned by my classmates for being well below their ages, but for a month they called me Spencer 'can Reid just fine but don't ask him to cut hair'. Which seems like a crappy insult, because it doesn't really roll off the tongue, nor is it particularly clever, barring the slight stab at my intelligence, but it is actually a brilliant insult. It's brilliant because, despite the content lacking, it was a mouthful. Took a long time to say, hence prolonging the agony of hearing it. All the time.

"I won't make that mistake again" I muttered spitefully. Under my breath, I thought.

"What?" Came a bemused and warm seeming reply from the same direction as before.

Shit. I thought I had muffled that sentence. Heck, I thought he'd gone anyway.

I started by turning my head very slightly, and then turned it back to my empty desk and imaginary paperwork. Deciding that it would be easiest to swivel my chair, then work on actually raising my face to his (at least, it sounded like a 'him'… God, I hoped it wasn't Aaron Hotchner. From what I'd heard about him, a bad first impression was likely to be your last impression) I began to turn around at tortoise speed. The average speed for a giant tortoise is approximately .17 miles per hour, so it really is quite slow. While a popular parable for children, a tortoise could never in reality beat a hare in a race, and the idea that either have the intelligence level to conceptualize the race in the first place is preposterous. I've never understood it. Oh look, my chair has swiveled while I was lost in thought and I've come face to shoes with the smooth, teasing, but bordering on flirtatious voice behind me. Slowly, knowing the look of embarrassment must be almost painstaking; I lift my suddenly very heavy head to meet my new workmate. His body borders on perfection, with a smile to match. His skin smooth and a light black tone, hair shorn close to his head. I think it's the hair that makes me think possibly ex-military? Or perhaps that's just a fantasy I'm having.

Shit, not a good way to start, Spencer, not a good way to start.